Dick called Gordon over to his seat after the discussion had waned and the fellows had quieted down. “Who,” he asked, moving his crutches to make room for Gordon, “can we get to take Jack’s place?”
“To take Jack’s place?” exclaimed Gordon. “Why, what’s the matter with Jack?”
“I thought you understood that he was suspended,” replied Dick calmly. “I certainly gave him a fair warning.”
“But—but—” blurted Gordon in bewilderment, “you can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
Gordon stared. Finally, “Are you in earnest?” he asked.
“Of course. I’m manager of this team. And while I’m manager the fellows have got to behave. Jack was all wrong. He had no business talking like that. In the first place, it wasn’t up to him to protest the decision. In the next place he might have got us into a nasty row with those toughs over there. They were dying for a scrap all along. If they had started anything we’d have got pretty well mussed up, Gordie.”
Gordon nodded. “I know,” he said gloomily, “but—Jack was excited, Dick. And it was a robbery. You can’t blame him for getting a bit hot about it.”
“I don’t. I blame him for showing it, or, at least, proclaiming it. If I’m manager, I’m going to manage. If I can’t manage, I’m not manager. Which is it?”
“Why, you’re manager, of course, Dick. But—Jack won’t like being suspended. In fact, he will probably get mad and quit altogether.”